


Quality Control

by AnotherAnon0



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced, Forced Crossdressing, Forced Feminization, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Men Crying, Misgendering, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sergei is evil and must be stopped, Size Difference, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25902667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: Sergei Vladimir punishes William Birkin for a failed B.O.W product.[heed tags!]
Relationships: Sergei Vladimir/William Birkin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 30





	Quality Control

Everyone was scared of him. 

The usual ramblings and conversations of the scientists in the laboratory became hushed to frantic whispers when he was there -- some of the virologists and technicians fell totally silent, clammy foreheads glistening under the fluorescent lights as they bit their tongues and refused even to breathe through their mouths until he'd left. 

Sergei enjoyed it -- the palpable environment of anxiety his very presence provoked.

He stalked slowly between the machines, equipment, and tanks suspending the experimental B.O.Ws in glistening green sludge, arms folded behind his back neatly as he inspected the compliant performance of every Umbrella staffer in the Raccoon facility under the strict orders of Lord Spencer. Today, however, his arrival had a purpose beyond simple monitoring. 

A tongue tip delicately ran from one corner of his scarred lips to the other as he slowly strode towards a windowless, steel door down a small, off-set hall at the furthest end of the laboratory. Sergei could feel eyes on his back as he turned down the meter-long corridor, back straight and shoulders confidently perched back. The door wasn't totally closed, a small crack indicating it hadn't been shut properly -- perhaps by someone in a rush. 

Uncoiling his hands from behind him, Sergei lifted a single finger towards the door, pushing it childishly and causing it to creak open slowly.

Dipping his body to the side and poking his head through the crack, Sergei's long, silver hair fell in front of his scarred eye. 

"Doctor Birkin!" Sergei grinned, "How are you, comrade?"

William peeped loudly, almost dropping the binder he'd had clutched in his hands, poised in front of his chest like a shield. 

"S... sir... Colonel." The virologist swallowed audibly hard, Adams apple bobbing over the collar of his pristine, white dress shirt, "W-what can I d-do for you?"

Sergei slipped through the open door, pushing the door shut behind him with a boot kicked backwards. As the heavy, metal lock latched it into its frame, William felt the temperature in the room rise substantially, stomach gurgling in anxiety. 

The Russian took a step forward, folding his arms behind his back again. The tiny lines stretching from his good eye became a bit deeper as his smile widened, cheeks balling and pulling his lips away from his bright, white teeth. Despite the attempt at a jovial demeanour, William was anything but at ease -- fingers clutching onto the binder he still held with increasing tightness that left his knuckles white. 

"Comrade, you seem so... rattled."

"N-no..."

" _Da_." Sergei cocked his head to the side, taking another, short stride forward, "You should sit. Relax." Sergei pointed to the chair a few feet in front of him, one intended for guests, rather than the tall, tufted leather chair on the other side of William's desk. When William didn't respond, standing in the corner of the room with a pale expression on his clammy face, the order was repeated. 

"Please. Sit." Sergei beamed. 

William knew it wasn't a question, or a simple suggestion which could be rejected. Carefully stepping to close the distance, William slipped around the corner of the desk, losing the momentary safety he believed he had, turned cautiously and sat in the offered chair. Cradling the binder as though it were a teddy bear, William stilled himself, awkwardly perching all of his weight on his thighs as if his body was preparing to leap to a run at any given second. 

Having Sergei behind him made him uncomfortable. His fingers kneaded the vinyl of the binder slowly, the lead ball in his throat refusing to be swallowed. 

For a moment, the room was silent but for the buzzing of the office lights. 

"What happened yesterday evening, comrade?" Sergei's heavy purr wrapped around the Doctor's head, stroking at the sides of his temples softly before dripping down into his ears.

"Yesterday?" William cleared his throat, "I... I don't kn--"

"Are you sure?" The interjection was a bit harsher.

William began to purse through his memory, as though the previous day was sitting at the bottom of a very, very dark fog. Frantically, he chased every detail he could recall, piecing his day together in search of anything of significance.

"I... I was here..."

"Mmhm."

"And... And I was working on the attenuated retroviral for the vaccine bases..."

"Mmhmmm."

"And Alb-- Dr. Wesker and I finished the B.O.W haplotype transm--"

" _Da_."

William stopped. "D-- Did something happen, Sir?"

All of the air deflated from William's lungs as Sergei's hands slipped their way over his shoulders, kneading them softly. 

"We put them through _quality control_ , Dr. Birkin."

The too-warm room was suddenly, instantly too-cold. 

_Quality control._

Such an innocent-sounding thing. A routine, mundane administrative term used almost universally in drab, grey-coloured offices across America made so nefarious by Umbrella, like everything else. The quality control team was made up of six of Spencer's most dogmatic scientists -- a blind committee of zealots who combed over random selections of data, reports, or products for flaws, inconsistencies, or potentials for intellectual property theft.

William felt his stomach lurch into his throat.

"I-- I don't k-- know what c-could have been wrong, Sir..."

The tremendous hands on his shoulders squeezed ever so slightly harder. 

"They didn't _work_." Sergei mewed, "Useless for our purposes."

The virologist felt a tiny bead of sweat roll down his temple, "I'm so sorry, C-colonel. I ca-can immediately..."

The hands were gone, and with a single, long-legged stride, Sergei was in front of the chair, beaming down at him with the same smile. A plastic smile. One which was casting odd contours on his scarred face under the backing light of the quaking fluorescent. At 6'7, the man looked like a demented, muscular skyscraper.

"Of course, comrade." He said, cocking his head to the side. Long silver locks fell from behind his ear. "You will fix this, I am sure."

"Yes!" William peeped, "Of course. Right aw-"

In an act of desperate hope, he went to stand, the binder he had been clutching onto like a safety blanket clamouring to the floor. Maybe, he thought, Sergei would let him go. Immediately work on the failed product. He could have it done by the end of the day, he began to think excitedly. No harm, no foul.

A massive hand against his chest immediately stripped his mind of any and all optimistic scenarios he had developed. 

"My, Dr. Birkin. Such a rush. For what reason, comrade?"

"T-to go and fix th--"

" _Boyus chto nyet_..." Sergei clicked his tongue, shaking his head slightly, "I am afraid it is not so easy, comrade."

"W-what?" 

Sergei lifted his hand from William's chest, bringing a crooked finger to his long strands of silver hair and pushing them behind his ear. 

"Everyone must take responsibility for their failures." The Russian accent rolled heavily down the foot-long distance from Sergei's lips to William's head, dropping on the smaller man like a crate of bricks. In an instant, Sergei's massive hand was around his throat. While the pressure was light, William gasped a sputter, hands bolting up to grab at Sergei's arm in shocked fright. 

"You will be better for a bit of punishment, comrade." Sergei smiled widely, good eye glinting, "It can only make a man stronger."

When he attempted to sputter a protest, the hand clasped tighter, immediately stifling the words. 

"Now, now, Doctor. Don't be difficult." Sergei pursed his scarred lips, "This will wipe the slate clean. It is a wonderful opportunity."

Still holding him tightly by the throat, Sergei's other hand found its way to the collar of William's shirt, and with a single, powerful pull, ripped its way down the seam -- buttons snapping off and flying to the floor with loud, plastic patters. The virologist yelped as the material fell open, exposing his naked chest. 

"We need to get you more comfortable, comrade."

When Sergei released his throat, William choked a loud breath in, feeling tears well in his eyes as oxygen oversaturated him in a burning gasp his body was unable to process immediately. William frantically tried to close his white labcoat around him, a move Sergei looked on at with a fading smile.

"P-pleas-se, Si-sir!"

The smile was gone.

"Remove your clothes, Dr. Birkin." 

A desperate sob breathed from William's throat, the blonde clutching at the hems of his lab coat. "Please, Sir. Please. Please." 

Sergei ignored the whining and pleading, looking over towards the coat stand that had caught his eye the moment he'd stepped into the room. Taking a step to the side and reaching out, he plucked a hanger from one of the hooks. While the spare lab coats and dress shirts were strewn over by their collar -- one even hanging from the top of the wooden post casually -- one article of clothing was neatly hanging with great care. 

A sleeveless, black dress. 

"This is quite soft, _da_?" Sergei smirked, "Maybe this will be more comfortable than those stuffy clothes, comrade."

"Tha-that's Annette's!" William babbled, shaking his head frantically. His wife had left some of her possessions strewn about his office, including the simple, knee-length black dress. Always conscious of her professionalism, she used it for the impromptu board meetings or debriefings they were often called to with little notice.

"I think it should fit you!" The words were jovial, excited, and entirely betrayed the situation. 

Slipping the cheap material into his hands, Sergei tossed the plastic hanger to the side casually, stepping back towards William and holding the dress out. The virologist continued to whimper pleads of protest desperately.

"Well?" Sergei cocked his head to the side, dangling the wispy fabric in a childish jeer, "Try it on for me, Doctor."

William hiccuped a loud sob, reaching out and taking the dress with a trembling hand. Sergei crossed his arms, smirk collapsing and the giddy grin returned to his face as though nothing at all were awry. Involuntarily, William quickly brought the fabric up to his eyes to dry them, a move which prompted a bellowing laugh from Sergei. 

"Come now, Doctor. This will be over before you know it."

William's tiny protests highlighted every little movement he made, protests that were either ignored or silently rejected with a sober, mock-sympathetic shake of the head by Sergei. Material began to accumulate around his feet. His white lab coat and torn shirt contrasted against the dark floor like a puddle of spilled milk.

When he went to slip the dress over his head, Sergei stopped him with a loud click of his tongue. 

"Comrade. Umm..." He wagged his finger at William's grey dress pants, "You are still dressed, I believe."

"Sir... Colonel... _Please_." William began to shake his head, sniffling pathetically, "I-- I don't wan't to."

"Do you want me to take them off for y--"

"N-no!" 

William let the dress fall over his head, hands working through the armholes before lifting the fabric to unbuckle his pants and push them downwards along with his white briefs. Sergei looked on in amusement as William frantically tried to cover himself with the dress material, pushing the hem down with one hand as he awkwardly wiggled out of his trousers and boring suburban underwear. He toed his shoes off, letting him step out of the swamp of discarded clothes, and closed his arms around his chest tightly and heaving gasps of anxiety as the wispy hem of the dress fell to sit just above his quivering knees.

"Do you feel more comfortable now?"

William kept his gaze focused on the ground in silence.

"You look very nice." Sergei sighed contentedly, "Much more like the _stupid little girl_ you are."

Blue eyes shot up quickly, William's stomach lurching through the floor at the sudden, sadistic jeer. Realisation began to slowly creep through his stress-muffled mind.

"What's wrong, _malyshka_?" Sergei cocked his head to the side in mock-curiosity.

"Please, Sir." William shook his head frantically, hands wringing at the dress' scratchy material.

Taking a step back, Sergei sat on the thin, vinyl chair that was just behind him with a grunt. 

"Come here, _malyshka_ , I need to fix your dress." The Russian didn't wait for a response, protest or compliance, simply reaching out and grabbing one of William's thin wrists and jerking him closely, the other man almost falling into his hips. Immediately, Sergei began to poke and pull at the fabric, straightening the hems and smoothing the wrinkles with flat palms.

"There, there..." Sergei smiled, "Such a stupid little girl, she can't even put her dress on properly. It's no wonder she fucks up so badly in the lab, hmm?"

William began to tremble under the touches, quaking jerks away from the lightest brushes of Sergei's fingers.

"You'd be better off a housewife I think, _malyshka_."

Another sob.

"There's far too much responsibility here for a tiny girl like you."

"Sir... I jus-t want t-to go."

Sergei brought his hand up to William's cheek, stroking the soaked flesh softly with the side of his finger.

"Why the rush, little one? Is your mother waiting for you?"

William squealed, suddenly turning and trying to dart towards the door. His attempt at an escape was pathetically short-lived, a hand darting out and snatching his boney shoulder tightly, the jerk of an abrupt stop almost sending him tumbling towards the ground. In an instant, he was being pulled back, a frantic clamour of tripping feet and a mess of legs 

Sergei laughed giddily, a sadistic hitch to the bellows of amusement. William squirmed and struggled against him, trying to lash out with his fists, his diminutive size utterly incapable of making even the slightest bit of leeway under the tremendous strength of the massive Russian. 

"Calm down, little _malyshka!"_ Sergei chided loudly, clicking his tongue against his teeth, "Save your spirit, please."

Sergei used the grip he had on William's shoulders to push him forward, towards the desk. Once the blonde's belly hit the edge, he gasped loudly, buckling forward until his chest hit the paper-strewn wooden surface. Sergei pinned him with his hips, planting a palm on the centre of his back and keeping him bowed deeply with gentle pressure applied to his centre of gravity. William yelped when he felt a warmth emanating from the thick thighs pressing against his, a hardness centred between Sergei's legs pressing into him perversely.

" _No, no, no, no_..." He blathered, a bit of drool slipping from the corner of his mouth and down onto the paper the side of his face was stuck to. 

"This will all be over soon, girl." Sergei purred, "All over."

Goosebumps ran up William's thighs as the dress was hiked over his hips. Suddenly, every muscle in his body seized, breath falling to a jagged, intermittant sputter. As though all of the energy had been drained from him in an instant, he fell still. 

The noises in the room became overwhelmingly loud.

The _tick-ticking_ of the clock.

His own breaths. 

The sound of a buckle unbuckling. 

Everything in William's mind hushed to a blank nothingness as he felt the firm, heavy head of Sergei's cock slip between his most intimate contours. His fists balled at his waist, gripping the fabric of the dress tightly, silently resolving to what was occurring though not accepting it really was. A part of him wanted to believe it was a bad dream -- or perhaps he'd inhaled some of those noxious fumes from the suspension tank ventilators again.

When the erection pushed, the pain snapped him out of the soothing rumination he'd tried to craft that denied it was there. Pressure immediately built up as the tremendous arousal attempted to force its way into him, pushing on the tight ring of muscle and meeting nothing but resistance. It wasn't until he felt almost collapsed in that the opening began to buckle and part, prompting an immediate squeal from William. 

"Surely you're not a virgin, little girl!" Sergei laughed, a lusty growl in his voice, "Such a pretty, tiny thing like you."

He pushed again -- harder. Sergei moaned softly as he felt his erection pop past the muscle, the dry friction delighting him with his own mingling pleasure and pain. William trembled beneath him, heaving heavy breaths in anguish.

Sergei's hand slipped down William's back, palm closing around his hipbone. 

"Maybe you are, hmm?" He smirked, his other hand releasing his erection when he was partially sheathed and grabbing at William's other side, "Poor thing. Let me open you up a bit..."

As the words trickled out of his mouth, he thrusted hard -- fully entering William's impossibly tight, virginal hole. The virologist screeched in anguish, foot stamping against the ground hard and fists knocking into the table as he involuntarily, impotently jerked away, body crashing into the desk loudly.

Sergei pulled out slowly before thrusting into him again, the Russian murmuring contently as he began to establish a rhythm for the destruction. He squeezed William's hips harder and harder, pulling the younger man back with him before slamming him back into the edge of the desk. Every tiny moment sent shockwaves of pain through William's body, squeaks and whimpers accompanying even the smallest, perverted twitch in Sergei's sheathed erection. 

Nonsense began to spew from William's lips -- desperate protests and tearful, incomplete pleas that only provoked chuckles of amusement from his violator.

As Sergei thrusted, William felt as though he was being torn in two, a numbness swelling in his stomach and between his legs. Sergei was massive, and the younger man didn't want to think about the size of the arousal that was pumping inside him, leaking cum into his guts -- claiming him on a cellular level. He didn't know if it was the cum that was making it easier for the Colonel to slip in and out of him, or if he was bleeding. Internally, William tried to suppress the nausea that accompanied with being grateful for the lubrication, whatever it was.

Sergei moved his hands from William's hips, slipping beneath his chest and pulling him upwards. His back arched as his shoulder blades were forced into Sergei's chest, the older man beginning to knead at his bosom roughly through the dress -- squeezing and palming at his nipples until William felt the blood rush to the surface, flesh contemplating bruising.

"You have cute little tits, _malyshka_." Sergei whispered, dipping his nose into the back of William's ear, "I like them a bit bigger, but these look good on you."

A rough, large tongue combed its way over William's ear, causing him to tremble and whimper. Sergei licked at the flushed shell, thrusts methodically continuing to press into William's stomach as he pushed deeper and deeper, until his hips were roughly knocking into the other man with every beat. William was sure he could feel the erection prodding at his abdominal wall, afraid if he glanced down he'd see it jutting out of him.

Sergei moaned deeply as his climax drew near, beginning to thrust and knead harder and harder. William yelped as Sergei pushed into him a final time, hips pressing into his back abusively as he was pulled tightly into Sergei's chest, a disgusting warmth beginning to accumulate inside him as the Colonel planted his seed. William could feel the cock twitch and gush, as though every cell in his body was acutely aware of its presence. 

"Hopefully you won't get pregnant, _malyshka_." Sergei grinned, squeezing the younger man tightly a final time before he began to loosen his grip, "That would be quite shameful, _da_?"

William could only sob. 

When Sergei pulled out, the virologist felt the orgasm slip from him, a warm trail of fluid beginning to pass between his thighs, leaking perversely. As he was released, he slowly dropped to the floor, weak knees no longer able to hold him. 

As though nothing at all had happened, Sergei leaned down and patted his head, stroking the damp, blonde hair for a moment before beginning to tuck himself away.

"Wasn't that easy?" The Colonel licked his lips, sighing in post-orgasmic high, "Punishment completed, and all is forgiven. Headquarters will be pleased to hear you've learned your lesson, _da_?"

Disgust and anxiety wracked his small frame, jagged breaths jerking from his trembling chest as the pain between his legs burned and undulated through his nerves. The warmth of Sergei's deposit pulsated through his stomach, churning it with deep, vibrating nausea. 

Suddenly, a loud, clamouring bang roared against the door -- the knob immediately rattling and snapping the latch from the unlocked frame.

"Willia--" A familiar voice stammered, seizing to a stop as the door swung open to its full purview. 

"Al!" William sobbed desperately, tears rolling down his beet-red cheeks, face still contorted in anguish, "Al -- h-help me!"

"Ah, Dr. Wesker." Sergei gasped a final pant, breathing deeply through his nose in a reclamation of much-needed oxygen. He turned slowly towards the door, still tucking himself away. "I am glad to see you."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sergei." Albert's nostrils flared in a mix of disgust and fury as a flush took up residence on his sallow cheeks, "What the hell have you-- What the hell is going on?!" 

Sergei simply smiled.

"I needed to speak to you as well, comrade." 

**Author's Note:**

> oH BOY 
> 
> SERGEI WHAT ARE U DOIN 
> 
> I have no idea how this came into my head, but it did and here it is. Hope you enjoyed this load of yikes?


End file.
